Sorry
by November Ignis
Summary: First fic. Au, beginning in the episode 'Nebraska' but continues on from there. What if the scene when Shane comforts Carol blossomed into something more between them? How would Shane be different? How would Carol be different? And most of all, how would the group react when they find out? Shane/Carol, Carol/Daryl unrequited, slight Carol/Rick. Rated M for good measure!
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Happy New Year's Eve!

 **Chapter** **One**

He hears rustling in the brush and his hand moves to his gun on reflex. He's watching, waiting, anticipating the appearance of a walker, though he can't quite say that the figure that does appear is more welcomed company. He watched in silence as Carol emerged from the thorny bushes looking every bit the definition of dismal and melancholy as anyone Shane had ever seen. She was covered in dirt and sweat and cuts and the sight of her makes his heart clinch in the most painful way he'd ever felt. Painful enough to make him want to run off and die somewhere. Kill over in a heap of shame and guilty and just leave her there alone. But he doesn't run off. Doesn't leave her out here in her grief because the parts of him this world didn't kill, the part that still remembers all the morals and standards and how to do the right thing tell him not too. So he doesn't run. Instead he finds himself slowly walking towards her. Advancing on her cautiously with his hands raised in peace before he can even register rather or not it's really a good idea.

"Hey, is everything alright?"

He whispers to her softly. Softly enough he can't quite tell if he'd really said anything at all. He must have though, because even though she didn't reply she still looked at him. Still noticed he was there. Acknowledged his existence within the same space as herself without lashing out or ignoring him right after, and that might not seem like much, but its a hell of a lot more than anyone did for him lately. More than even Shane knows he deserves.

"Hey, are you okay Carol?"

He asked the question louder, stepping more into her line of sight and moving closer towards her. She's scratched up something fierce on her arms and neck and Shane can't tell if its from walker attacks or just self inflected . He reaches out to touch her arm: to get her to step closer to him so he can check her wounds and the violence of her recoil visibly shocks them both. She looks so small and fragile and broken that the sight of her is almost enough to rip his heart straight out from his chest. Her sorrow was deep, painful to witness as it brought up past memories Shane would rather just forget. Carol looked numb, detached from reality like his mother had after a fresh beating from his father, or all those victims he'd dealt with at the precinct so long ago. Those situation had been different though, much easier to handle because back then Shane was the person there to help the victims and not the cause of their plight in the first place. He was the savior back then, the solution. Now he'd be lucky to be the least of everyone's problems. Things indeed were different back then because he too, was different back then. So different in fact its hard to tell rather or not that Shane really shared a body, a mind and a spirit with the man he is today. But he knows it was the right course of action to take. A necessary shift from good man to surviver because the world changed to become the complete opposite of what it was. And since he wanted to live, stay around long enough to protect what he loves, he saw it best the he did too.

He's eyeing her carefully now. Just as carful as you would a cornered animal whom you don't want to attack, but calm down. "Hey, hey, hey, hey" he chides calmly. He hadn't meant to spook her, make her feel trapped or uneasy so Shane decided to step back, wrap a hand around his mouth and try to pretend she wasn't justified in her clear repulsion of him. He shouldn't be here right now and he knows it. Shouldn't be tainting her right to grieve in peace but that doesn't stop him from staying because he doesn't want to leave. Can't leave really. Every time he thinks of dipping out and moving on his legs stop working, and the rest of him is just stuck standing there stupefied at his body's inability to respond to the commands of his brain. And somewhere in his mind, he thinks that maybe that's a good thing. He can't leave, but he isn't exactly sure on rather or not he has the true will to **want** to stay either. He's trying, really trying to calm her down, but she's jumpy and shockish and he doesn't know long his patience can last. If those wounds on her were from walkers then she's a ticking time bomb, and Shane isn't waiting around for her to go boom.

"Hey Carol, sweetheart...now you listen to me..."

There's more rustling from the bushes behind them and Shane decides he isn't playing around anymore. He grabs her arm fast, none to gently and doesn't hesitate to restrain her when she riles up and fights back. He pulls her back flush against his chest and tries to cover her mouth when she screams. The movements in the brush are getting more wild, more feverous and Shane can feel the ever present feeling of fear wailing up in his stomach. Her arm slips from his hand and it isn't long before he finds her elbow rammed into his face. Carol's aim was good. She hits his right temple and it isn't long before he can feel the dizzying, nauseating pain of the blow completely. The sounds of shuffling feet and walker moans are becoming less distance with each passing second, and he's still got Carol thrashing and flailing around in his arms. His head is pounding, but he tries his damnedest to push through the pain. "LET GO OF ME"! She's screaming in his in ear making his head pound more, and he decides to use a tactic he thought he'd long forgotten of from his time on the force. "Now Carol, you know I'd never hit a woman, but I don't have any other options right now so you just gonna have to forgive me for this" Shane takes a quick shot to her belly and grabs her tighter when she nearly doubles over in shock and pain.

He drags her to the water pump and shoves her down onto the concrete slab set around it. He knows he's an even bigger asshole than everyone already thinks for what he's about to do next, but if he wants to keep the both of them alive then this is the right course of action to take. He gags her with the black bandana he keeps in the back of his right pocket. Wrapping duct tape securely around the gag to keep it inside of her mouth.

He feels more disgusted with himself then he ever has when he looks into those eyes of hers. The tense silence set around them broken only by the metallic clank of the handcuffs wrapping around the water pump and her wrists.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2**

" **This girl has got a smile that could make me cry..."**

 **-The Cure; Bird Mad Girl**

There's a storm of emotions in her eyes, and despite his best efforts not to, he finds himself steadily getting swept in. He leans in closer to get a better look at the hurricane brewing inside her, finding many of the same emotions there that he'd experienced not to long ago. Grief seems to be the most dominant emotion in her though. Swirling viciously behind those much to green orbs buried deep into her sockets. She's tense, covered in a thin layer of sweat either from the hot Georgian sun or from nerves, and breathing harder than a runner after a 30 mile race with no breaks in between checkpoints. Carol's terrified, that much he can tell with absolute certainty, but rather it's from the impending arrival of the walking dead or his presence this close in her personal space, he doesn't really want to know. She's starring intently at the bushes behind the both of them, and Shane can sense she's just as on edge as he is right now. He reaches a hand out to wipe the small beads of sweat steadily forming on her brow; an affectionate move to still her nerves that she immediately refuses when she once again recoils from his touch. She's glaring at him. Eyes shining with _something_ as she leans away from him as much as she possibly can. Some feeling of fear and anger and disgust that flashes across her face, and that look is suddenly all to familiar to him and yet not enough to completely piece together. A feeling so hurtfully close that he feels it from the others everyday and still equally distant enough to be nearly unrecognizable. Shane wises he could pretend that he didn't deserve even the slightest amount of contempt she has for him. The amount everybody seems to have for him now.

The walkers could be showing up any second now, and he knows its a foolish idea to be so caught up with Carol. There both in great danger and Shane knows that very well. Knows its only a matter of time before the ambling corpses from the forest are clawing at their necks, but he still can't force himself to move from his position. Can't bring himself to turn his back on her for even one second, because he _**knows**_ he'd miss it if he did. Miss the opportunity to stop the fracture caused by the stress of the situation. The fracture that would lead to the thick, jagged spider cracks in her already damaged resolve, and she'd just break up right there on the spot. Burst into millions of tinny tiny little shards and he'd be left to pick up all the sharp pieces of the half-strong woman she once was. So he doesn't dare move. Not when cracking of twigs and the rustle-rustle of the bushes signify the geeks as they've no doubt breached the boundary separating the clearing from the woodlands. Not even when the moaning gets so loud he's practically sure that its right in his ears. He stays exactly in the same position in front of her. Trapped by the silence of her body and her mind, and just as hopelessly enthralled by it as well.

So enthralled that he's moving ever closer; rising up in front her enough that their eyes meet at the same level. Carol's still afraid, and for some odd reason he feels compelled to relieve her of that fear. He wraps an arm around her waist, another around her upper back and draws her body as close as he can towards his own. Rock Hard pectorals created from extensive training meeting small, soft breasts with firm and reassuring pressure. His sweaty forehead reaches out to press against her own, deep brown eyes meeting sky blue ones with enough intensity to spark a light bulb. Her body tremors against his, and he isn't quite sure why it hurts him so much to know that she fears him with such a great intensity.

"Hey...its gonna be alright Carol. It's all gonna be alright.." He coos soothingly into her ear. Voice thickly sopped in a softness Shane can honestly admit is foreign to him in these desperate times. He wants to calm her, sooth her fears and make her feel safe. He wants to hold her close; closer than he ever did dream of before and melt away everything that hurts inside her. Wants to make her OK enough to laugh and smile again. Smile that beautiful smile between silent pain and forced contentment that made him want to shed tears for her so many times before back at the quarry. She was beautiful then; all prim and proper and quietly dignified just like the many conservative women Shane never used to ask out on dates. He never liked going out with women like Carol because they usually felt they were to smart or classy to give him the time of day, or were to good to put out without some pressuring, and he just didn't have time for those types of games back then.

He'd be damned if he couldn't admit that it took the end of the world for him to want to make time for them now. He let's his lips lightly brush the tip of her ear, allowing the reverberations of her shivers to send sparks shooting through his entire body. He presses another kiss, this time to her temple, and Shane can't even pretend to suppress the moan that crawls from his throat when she shrieks. He wants to try for another, a third kiss for good measure when her body language suddenly changes completely. Her eyes go wide as dinner plates as she squirms, trying what looks like her damnedest to wriggle away from him. Carol's deathly afraid now, but somehow Shane **knows** it's not just from him now.

He turns; trying to figure out what changed around them, when he shifts around to come face to face with a rotten, stinking walker as it reaches out to snare him by the throat. Ice cold hands earned by death grip his shoulders, pulling him towards gnashing teeth with a strength uncommon to that of living men.


End file.
